


Something (Part 3 of the Sacrifice Arc)

by beren



Series: The Sacrifice Arc [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV), teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 16:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/928829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beren/pseuds/beren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles wakes up after his ordeal and has to deal with what he did and everything that has happened since. Not even Deaton has an explanation. Then things get weirder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something (Part 3 of the Sacrifice Arc)

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, officially addicted to Teen Wolf, this cements it. I don't know if I got the layout of the Stilinski kitchen right, I don't even know if we know it because I couldn't find any info when I Googled, so please forgive me if it's wrong. I'm also making up bits of Derek's loft we haven't seen because there has to be amenities somewhere. Thanks to Soph for the gramma and typo check (still trying to pimp her into the fandom ;))

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Jeff Davis et al. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
 **Warnings:** spoilers for s3  


Stiles woke up with a really funny taste in his mouth thinking he was late for something. Looking over at his clock he blinked at the number and threw himself out of bed. Somehow he must have slept right through the alarm and if he didn't hurry he was going to be very late for school.

The first thing he did was clean his teeth, because his mouth tasted like ass and then he climbed into the shower. What he had been doing the previous night he had no idea, but there was something sticky in his hair and in other places that he didn't want to think about. His brain was more of a mess than usual and he could not get one thought to stay put long enough to make sense. From experience he knew getting through his usual morning routine would help with that and his daily dose of Adderall.

Of course the panic of being late didn't overly help.

He managed to pull on clothes, grab his bag and his stuff for Tuesday, he was sure it was Tuesday, and get downstairs before he realised anything was wrong.

What drew him up short was the fact Scott was asleep on the sofa and Derek was curled up on the floor. Nowhere in his brain was there anything to explain why that would be. He pulled out his phone and looked at the screen. It said Sunday and he didn't know how that could be. Then there was sound on the stairs behind him, he turned, saw his dad and something sparked in his mind. His bag hit the floor with a thump.

"Oh," he said as a flood gate opened in his brain.

It all came back at once; Ms Blake, the classroom, the fear, the dying, the pain, the nemeton. Images flashed through his head like an insane movie that would not stop. It was too much and he felt himself begin to shake. He hadn't had panic attacks in years and now he was having two in the same week.

As his heart hammered in his chest, he slid down the wall, trying desperately to catch his breath. It was like everything was closing in on him, overwhelming him and he couldn't do anything to stop it.

"Stiles," that was his dad's voice, "I need you to breathe. Don't think about anything else, just breathing."

His vision was spinning and everything was going in and out of focus and he tried to do what his dad told him. He tried to concentrate, to breathe, but it was all too much. The thoughts in his head would not stop tumbling over and over and there was too much panic and fear and anger. His dad was holding his shoulders and it helped a little, but it wasn't enough.

Something was rattling and his vision was doing weird things in green and white and as he desperately tried to find something, anything to focus on it looked like everything on the nearby cabinet was shaking.

"Stiles," Scott spoke to him slowly and calmly, "remember that time we ate a whole box of donuts in under half an hour? You threw up candy coloured all over the kitchen."

The words sparked something in his chaotic brain. Scott had been with him after his mom died, all through the panic attacks and knew what to do. His dad and Scott had tagged teamed him before, brought him back and the image that snaked through his brain made him want to laugh. Only it still wasn't enough. He felt Scott place a hand on his back, rubbing circles and still the panic ripped through him.

"Stiles, you are safe," Derek's voice was steady and authoritative, "and so is everyone else."

Another hand touched him and he shuddered. It was almost enough.

He could feel things, see things, hear things and the world seemed almost as chaotic as his head. He needed it to stop.

A deep musky scent caught his nose and he used it like an anchor. He just dived at it, clinging and burying his face so it was dark and there was no more input to mess up his crazy brain. He concentrated on the scent, breathing it into lungs that were trying to insist they couldn't do it, but he persisted. The darkness, the scent, a firm grip that resolved slowly into strong arms holding him, it all slowly narrowed down his world and his heartbeat gradually eased.

Other hands were rubbing his back and the panic slowly ebbed away.

Embarrassment slowly crept into the picture as he realised he had face-planted right into Derek, of all people. His beleaguered brain hadn't picked Scott or his dad, nope, it had to have picked Derek. Luckily for his pride Derek released him as soon as he tried to pull away.

"Um, sorry," he said.

"Nothing to be sorry for," Derek replied in his usual stoic way. "Okay now?"

"Still a little shaky," he admitted, looking round at Scott and his dad too.

"Let's get you up," his dad said, placing a hand gently under his arm and helping him to his feet.

"Water, Adderall, please," he said as he did his best not to think about anything.

"Kitchen," his dad said and then he had three people helping him into a seat at the breakfast bar.

As Derek and Scott made sure he didn't fall off said chair, his dad fetched a glass and his pills. It might have been better to wait to medicate, but he really needed to be able to think, so he popped the Adderall, drank some of the water and then prayed it wouldn't take too long to kick in.

Scott and Derek stayed right next to him, all but crowding his personal space, while his dad watched him from the other side of the breakfast bar. In other circumstances it might have felt intrusive, but right then it felt comforting. He wasn't sure if Scott and Derek's behaviour was a wolf thing, or 'glad to have Stiles in on piece' thing, but it was helping so he didn't care.

"How is it Sunday?" he asked, because he remembered now, but as far as he knew it should have been Thursday night.

"You were missing for two days," Scott told him. "We only found you yesterday evening."

He took a deep breath and decided not to think about that too hard.

"And is it over?" was his next question.

The calming effect of the medication was beginning to kick in, allowing his bouncing thoughts to come into order, but he really hoped the answer to his question was yes, or it might not be enough.

"It's over," his dad said with a finality that brokered no arguments.

"Jenifer is dead," Derek said in a very clipped tone.

"And Deucalion is chained up and the other alpha's joined my pack," Scott said and it sounded as if that still kind of amazed Scott.

Stiles hoped that never changed, because it was so much part of who Scott was.

"We all joined Scott's pack," Derek said and didn't even sound a little resentful, which amazed part of Stiles and made another part of him really pleased, but he wasn't sure why.

"We still don't agree though," Scott said, smiling slightly, "so the world's not about to end any time soon."

Stiles smiled back before he remembered that it kind of almost had recently and the smile fell away again.

"You saved us all, kid," his dad said, reaching out and placing a hand over his, "and now everything is settling down."

He did his best to smile again at that, but the serious thoughts were creeping back.

"I have a spark," he said, staring at his glass of water even as the need to explain overcame him; "Deaton told me. That's how I created the circle at the club that time. I could feel her winning, pulling on the nemeton's power."

His fingers began to shake again, but he willed it away, concentrating on the warm hands on his back. That he could feel a kind of hum from them, not anything really physical, but still there, was not something he was willing to deal with yet, but they were strangely comforting.

"She kept ranting about how powerful self-sacrifice was, so I decided to beat her at her own game."

"You were willing to die to save the rest of us?" his dad's tone was almost accusatory, but then he could understand that, he'd have been the same if their positions had been reversed.

"I was broken, Dad," he said, looking at his father; "bits of me weren't working anymore where she threw me like a ragdoll. It seemed like a good trade."

"Oh god," his father said, already white as a sheet. "Stiles, please, promise me, you'll never do anything like that again."

He wanted to promise, he really did, but the words stuck in his throat. They stared at each other and Stiles could tell his dad knew as well as he did that if the need arose, Stiles would do exactly the same as he had before. His dad came round the counter and grabbed him into a tight hug, without saying anything.

"We'll just have to make sure it never comes to that," Derek said, tone heavy and sure and Stiles wished he could have managed that at the moment.

The hug helped to centre him some more and as soon as he sat back, Derek and Scott's hands were right there again, just resting on his shoulders now.

"Hungry?" his dad asked and he was surprised to find that he actually was.

"Starving," he admitted.

"And you two?"

"Ravenous," Scott agreed with a slight smile.

"Right, then I'm cooking," his dad said, "and Stiles, no comments on my choices, okay? This is comfort food."

"No comments, I promise," he said, putting his hand on his heart, "well at least not many."

That made his dad smile, so it was definitely worth the effort.

Breakfast turned out to be the works: bacon, pancakes, eggs, hash browns, toast. No cholesterol was spared and they all fell on it like starving wolves. That thought almost made him choke on his first piece of bacon, which would have been a really inglorious way to go after everything.

Finally, fortified by the food and the fact he had Scott on one side and Derek on the other, both with their thighs jammed against his even though there was plenty of room to spread out around the table, he let himself think about some of the things he had been avoiding.

"Where did you find me?" he asked, taking a sip of his favourite hot chocolate that his dad had made specially.

The fact Derek had zeroed in on it like it was wolf nip had just been a bonus. The big bad wolf was a chocolate addict, which was one piece of information Stiles was never letting go.

"The nemeton," Scott told him; "it called Derek and then ..."

Scott looked at Derek as if trying to figure out what to say.

"Spat you out," is what he decided on.

"I was in the roots?" he asked, because he definitely didn't remember that.

"The tree," Derek corrected.

"What tree?" he asked, although in his head there was suddenly the image of an oak he was pretty sure he had never seen.

"After what you did," his dad said, clearly unable to actually say anything more specific, "the tree grew back."

"The tree grew back?"

He didn't like just repeating things, but he thought that was worth doing.

"It's huge," Scott supplied.

"How is that even possible?" he asked, because that seemed way out there, even for them. "The whole tree grew back?"

No one seemed to know how to answer that.

"Even Deaton doesn't have a clue," Scott said.

"He's pretending he does," Derek added, "but he doesn't."

"And this tree spat me out?" he wanted to make sure he had this right.

"It looked more like a birth to me," Derek said as Scott made abortive no gestures.

Stiles decided to laugh rather than analyse that too far. It actually felt good to let himself be amused by the silent conversation Scott and Derek were trying to have with their eyebrows. However, it was clear neither Scott nor Derek spoke the other's version of eyebrow language as well as Stiles did.

"Enough with the sign language," he said, "I'm not going to panic again. The panic is over. I have the panic under control."

It was a bit over the top, but he was pleased to realise it was the truth. He had three of his centres right there in the room, and he had never thought he'd ever say that about Derek, but he was not delusional and could recognise the truth when he saw it, and that was all he needed.

"You've been through a lot, we just need to make sure you're okay, kid," his dad said and gave him a very paternal smile.

"And I'm revelling in the love," he replied and grinned back.

He really was too, but he knew there were things that could not be avoided.

"When I had the panic attack," he said after taking another fortifying slug of his hot chocolate, "things started shaking, didn't they?"

He looked right at Scott for this one, because he knew Scott couldn't lie worth a damn. Knowing his dad he was sure little white lies were an option and Derek was harder to read than he cared to admit.

Scott nodded.

"Was that either of you?" he asked, just to make sure.

Scott shook his head and after a second, Derek followed suit.

"So it was me," he didn't need to ask about that.

"Yeah, and your eyes glowed green," Scott added.

That could definitely have counted as too much too soon, but Stiles decided to go in the opposite direction.

"Cool," he said, "because I feel so left out when you guys do the whole eye thing. We've almost got the whole spectrum now. We need a purple and an orange, well I suppose it depends if you put gold in yellow or orange really..."

Then he realised he was babbling and shut himself up. The fact he could feel things he hadn't been able to feel before, sense things that were totally new to him, was becoming difficult to ignore.

"So, anyone know how I did the whole shaking thing?" he asked.

Apologetic shakes of the head were all that came back at him.

A panic attack was not the greatest time to discover anything and since his brain had been all over the place, Stiles couldn't put together much information about what had happened. He figured that it had to have something to do with emotions and will and he always did have a problem with impulse control. Just going with his gut he stared at an innocent toast point that had escaped the devastation of four hungry men and kind of pushed at it with his mind.

Spectacularly, nothing happened.

"Stiles, why are you glaring at toast?" Scott asked, sounding slightly worried.

"If offends me," he said and then grinned.

Clearly it was more complex than just willing something to happen. He needed to think about it some more.

"So, what happens now?" he asked, putting the other stuff to the back of his mind to let his hindbrain think it over.

"Now we distract the FBI and my dad," Scott said, "and figure out where we go from here."

That was kind of vague, so Stiles said so and was then treated to the cover story for the FBI, with Scott explaining, his dad re-explaining so it made sense and was in the correct order and Derek adding the odd word here and there.

The cover story was actually pure genius, because it was almost the truth, it just left out all the supernatural elements. Julia Baccari, after going off and having her face remade with plastic surgery had returned to Beacon Hills on a mad crusade as a serial killer, drugs and poisons being her modus operandi to get her victims to the right places. Stiles' dad and Scott's mom were playing kidnap victims who had no idea why they had suddenly been released, or where they had been kept, while Allison's dad wasn't being mentioned at all.

Apparently the people Allison's dad had called in to clear up had left clues to Julia's sudden remorse and suicide, but at the moment the FBI weren't quite buying it. There was still an alert out for her with a highly dangerous tag attached.

A phone call eventually interrupted the discussion. Scott listened for a few minutes and then looked at Stiles.

"Everyone would like to see you if you're okay with it," Scott said, looking apologetic.

"Really?" he asked. "Why?"

Scott asked his question then winced and then handed over the phone.

"Because you nearly died, you idiot," Lydia all but yelled at him.

"Okay," he said and meekly handed the phone back. "Wow, Lydia just keeps getting louder."

His dad had the gall to laugh at him for that.

"Everyone is congregating at Derek's place," Scott said after he finished the call, "since it's the biggest. Kind of an extended pack meeting."

"It's a good idea," Derek said, "wolves like to make sure an injured member of their pack is safe."

"But I'm not a wol..." was as far as Stiles got before Derek's expression shut him down. "Okay," he simply agreed.

"We'll help clean up here first, of course," Scott said and stood up to start clearing the table.

Stiles stood to help.

"Don't worry," his dad said, "I've got this covered. Sounds like this pack thing is better not left too long."

"But your shoulder," Stiles protested.

"Is fine," his dad replied. "That druid mojo had it mostly fixed by the time I even got to the hospital. Now go."

Stiles slipped round the table and gave his father a hug.

"Thanks, Dad," he said and then walked to where Derek and Scott were waiting for him.

Derek put out a hand and rested it on his back like it was a perfectly natural thing to do and Scott was close as well, so, for them, it seemed to be. He didn't want to read anything into it, but Derek's sudden touchy feely moments were doing nothing to help his hormones. At the contact there was a little fizz right at his core and it made goosebumps rise on his skin.

"Oh, oh," he said, turning back towards the table.

He felt for that fizz, the small feeling of heat and then he willed it to be brighter, to be more. Then he focused on the toast point and mentally flicked at it. It sailed through the air and hit the refrigerator with a splat where it landed butter side down.

"Yes," he said and jumped in the air.

"Okay," his dad said; "that you are cleaning up."

It seemed like a fair trade.

~*~

The fact that Derek's loft actually looked lived in and was full of people who seemed to be vaguely happy was a bit of a mental adjustment for Stiles. So was everyone being on the same side, but that was actually less of a shock. He had no idea why.

Lydia accosted him just inside the door, gave him a very careful once over and then hugged him.

"Welcome back," she said, which said all kinds of other things as well.

"Thanks," he said and then had to put up with being hugged by Isaac, Allison and Cora as well.

Peter just raised an eyebrow at him and he raised an eyebrow back, which was enough of an interaction as far as he was concerned. As for the alphas, they looked as if they wanted to come closer, but weren't sure they were allowed. It could have been creepy, but Stiles found it calming instead.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Deucalion said, which was plain creepy even if the alpha was tied up in some serious looking chains.

"That's it," Peter decided, "the gag's going back in."

While that did have its appeal, Stiles was not in a forgiving mood and he felt for his magic and sent a spike of it at Deucalion with a totally unnecessary finger flick, sending the alpha's head slamming back into the wall. Deucalion let out a startled groan and then his head fell forward.

"What the hell?" Aiden asked, at least Stiles thought it was Aiden.

Everyone who had been pretending not to stare at him was now not pretending anymore.

"What?" he asked. "Only werewolves allowed to have freaky powers now? That's one for team human."

"So cool," Isaac said and grinned at him.

"That is so unfair," Lydia said and pouted, "why do you get the glowy eye thing and I don't?"

"Because you're devastatingly beautiful enough already," Stiles replied and smiled a hopeful smile.

Lydia looked at him in that cool steady way that was so incredibly unnerving.

"Okay," she said with a shrug, "I'll take that."

Then she looped her arm through his and dragged him into the room.

It seemed everyone wanted to know what had gone on in details and there were questions coming from everywhere, which was when Scott called a time out.

"We might as well do this properly," he said, "everyone needs to know anyway."

Stiles ended up sitting next to Derek. He thought back and tried to come up with the set of events that had led to this, but he couldn't figure it out, so he just went with it. The fact that all but leaning against Derek made him feel safe and secure and a whole lot more relaxed was not something he was going to argue with just now. The other things it made him feel he was pointedly ignoring.

Lydia sent him a questioning look and he sent back a shrug. He hadn't figured it out yet.

Scott was sitting with Allison and Isaac and there was something about how close they were as well that made him make a mental note to corner Scott and ask him at some point.

"Right," Scott said and everyone started paying attention; "Stiles and Derek will give you their side of the story in case anyone knows what might have happened. If anyone has heard of anything like this before we need to know. That includes you, Deucalion. Think of it as a pass to live a little longer."

Deucalion wisely did not reply. It wasn't as easy telling a room full of people what he had done and why as if had been back at home, but with Derek sitting right there, Stiles got through his story. Then Derek took over, explaining what had happened to him and how he had found Stiles. After that Stiles had a chance to ask his own questions to find out exactly what he had missed. The whole part where Derek went from beta back to alpha particularly intrigued him. Unfortunately it all seemed to come to a whole heap of nothing. Even Deucalion looked surprised at times, which wasn't something Stiles had seen before.

"Okay," Scott brought the impromptu pack meeting to order, "Deaton said that now the nemeton is recharged it's going to start attracting other supernatural things. We need to start making decisions and preparations and we can't just keep him chained up forever," pointing at Deucalion.

"Oh I think he makes a nice ornament," Peter said unhelpfully.

"You know my opinion," Derek said, but he didn't sound like he was pushing it to Stiles.

This slightly less intense Derek was a very interesting creature to Stiles. It was Derek so compared to most people he still came off as deeply serious, but Stiles could tell the difference.

Personally, Stiles didn't like the idea of killing in cold blood, but there was no way they could let Deucalion go and he couldn't think of any alternatives. He was about to add his opinion to the mix when a shiver ran up his spine and he shuddered.

"Someone walk over your grave?" Isaac joked and then realised what he'd said and looked worried.

"There's something..." Stiles replied, not sure what he was trying to say.

He had this feeling of anxiety, but it didn't feel as if it was coming from inside him. It made his heart beat faster, but he did not feel panic building. The feeling was causing a totally different reaction in him and he stood up.

"The nemeton," he said as it suddenly resolved in his head.

There was no gap between thought and action as the spark inside him flared into life. He did not even technically think about what he was doing at all, he just did it. He let the power inside him burst through his cells and connect with its source and Derek's loft winked out around him and the leaves of the nemeton appeared. He was standing in the tree on one of the thick branches with a hand on the trunk, only there was no time to dwell on it because he looked down and saw Scott's dad walking around.

The FBI finding the cellar was a nightmare scenario.

As quickly and as quietly as he could he descended the opposite side of the tree to Scott's dad. Then he casually walked out to where he could be seen.

"Looking for something?" he asked.

His grinned at the way Scott's dad jumped at his voice.

"Stiles," the man said, "I thought you were supposed to be sick."

"I was," he replied, "been out of it for two days."

The fact he hadn't stuck to his dad like glue had had to be explained away somehow. Stress induced sickness had been Scott's mom's idea.

"Then what the hell are you doing out here?"

"Doctors orders, slow gentle exercise before the madness of school. I decided to take a walk."

Scott's dad looked kind of exasperated.

"You do realise there's a murderer still on the loose?"

"You haven't caught her yet?" he asked with an expression of pure innocence.

The fact that no one was ever going to find Jennifer Blake was neither here nor there.

"No," now Scott's dad sounded resigned.

"Why are you looking here?" he asked, still going for mostly innocent.

"This is the map reference your dad was supposed to have found Julia Baccari, but the terrain is wrong. There's no mention of a tree like this and I can't find the stump mentioned in the report."

"Um, maybe someone wrote it down wrong," Stiles suggested. "Doesn't look like this tree's new or anything."

He smiled an insincere smile to make his point.

"Screw this," Scott's dad said, "and screw provincial rental cops."

Stiles just glared, but held his tongue.

"I'm taking you back to town, where it's safe and then I am going to have a long talk with your father."

Stiles really didn't want his dad to have to go through that talk, but if the FBI found the nemeton they were all screwed. He followed along meekly and for the first time had a chance to think about what he had just done. It made him feel kind of shaky.

"Hey, are you okay?" Scott's dad asked as they walked, proving that at least he wasn't a total ass.

"Feeling a bit lightheaded, actually," he said, "maybe shouldn't have walked so far."

At least it gave credence to the being sick excuse.

The fact that he had teleported or apparated or some such shit from Derek's loft to the nemeton was just huge. That he'd known he was needed was even huger and he was beginning to think there was more to this rebirth thing than just being alive and whole.

His phone beeped and he pulled it out of his pocket. At least it didn't seem to be any the worse for wear for all the supernatural stuff.

"Just Scott wanting to know where I am," he said and made sure Scott's dad couldn't see the screen as he replied. "You know what Scott's like if you're not exactly where you're supposed to be."

He let Scott know what was going on in as few words as possible and then waited. It was barely seconds before the phone beeped again. He just replied with a 'see you at derek's later'.

That was when he walked into his first bush. One second he was sure the way was clear and then bam, there were leaves in the way. Stepping to the side he walked round them, brushing against them as he did so. There was a rustling and he stepped further away; clearly there was some sort of animal in the bush and the last thing he needed was more wildlife.

At least three more bushes and two trees came close to knocking him over on the way to Scott's dad's car and he began to think nature was out to get him.

~*~

Deaton was there when he arrived, along with the rest of the pack and pack associates.

"Are you alright?" Deaton asked him as soon as he walked in the door.

"Yeah, just freaking out a little, but no panicking, so we're good," he replied.

Both Scott and Derek were touching him and checking him over in moments. He just put up with it because it calmed him down as much as it seemed to calm them.

"What happened?" Scott asked.

"I don't really know," he admitted. "I just knew the nemeton needed me and I disappeared from here and reappeared in the damn tree. Your dad was there looking for where my dad found Ms Blake before she was Ms Blake and he could have tripped over the entrance to the cellar any time. I kind of made myself look helpless so he'd bring me back and stop looking."

"Wow," Allison said, "you actually teleported."

He really didn't need that pointing out, he knew that.

"Remarkable," Deaton said.

"You know what's going on now?" he asked, because he sure as hell didn't.

"I believe you may have become the guardian of the nemeton," Deaton said.

"The what now?" Stiles asked.

Everyone was looking at Deaton.

"It is an old story, one I never considered because I have never met anyone who believed it was anything more than a myth," Deaton said. "In the story a young girl was killed at a powerful nemeton, but because of her pure heart the nemeton brought her back from death. In return she became the guardian of the nemeton, appearing at the sacred site whenever it was threatened no matter how far away from it she had travelled."

"You mean I'm tied to a damn tree?" he demanded.

"Only if it is in danger," Deaton told him.

"But I can't just disappear from anywhere without people noticing," he said, because he could just see how that would have gone if he'd been in class.

"Perhaps you can learn to control it a little to give yourself time to deal with awkward situations," Deaton suggested.

"I do not want to end up in the news with the headline 'Incredible disappearing boy'," he bemoaned. "The government would come along and dissect me."

"No they wouldn't, we wouldn't let them," Derek said, placing a heavy, comforting hand on his shoulder, "and it's better than being dead."

Stiles supposed there was that.

~*~

When he got fed up of Deaton asking him a hundred and one questions, Stiles decided he was going to get his own back, so he cornered Scott in what passed for a kitchen at the loft.

"So," he said and smiled, "enough about me."

Scott's eyes did the looking for an escape thing, but Stiles was having none of it.

"How about you tell me what going on with you, Allison and Isaac?" he said and put himself directly in Scott's path when his friend tried to step round him.

"Um," Scott said and someone in the main room sniggered.

The cobbled together collection of sink, microwave, refrigerator and coffee machine had once been a storage room and was through one of the unremarkable doors off the loft.

"Private conversation," Stiles said very loudly, "werewolf eavesdroppers will be doused with wolfsbane."

If he had thought it would do any good he would have closed the door. They were round the corner out of sight of those sat in the next room, but not a lot could get them away from werewolf hearing.

"Sounds a wave," he said as his brain disappeared off down the tangential thought.

He wasn't sure where his mind was taking him for a second, then it was like an epiphany.

"What are you doing?" Scott asked as Stiles spread out his hands in an attempt to visualise what he wanted.

"Force field," he replied and felt for the vibration at his core.

He knew he could create a point of force so it seemed logical he should be able to create a plane as well. At least it seemed logical to him, not that he had a logical mind, not like Lydia, he was more of a huge intuitive leap kind of guy. So that was what he took and then something popped into existence between him and the door and all sound from the other room stopped. The barrier looked green and shimmery to his vision, but then so did parts of the room, so he wasn't sure how visible it was.

"Now they can't hear us," he said, turning back to Scott, "so spill."

"Um," Scott seemed to forget about the feat of magic when faced with such a direct command.

"Well?"

"We're trying out being a three," Scott replied awkwardly.

It was funny how Scott could be 'I am a true alpha' one minute and 'I'm kind of a dufus the next'.

"Oh thank god," Stiles said, "after the other night I thought we were going to have to have the 'oh my god Allison is seeing another guy' chats and those would be so much worse than the 'Allison broke up with me' ones. Sorry, Dude, but you suck when you're heartbroken. Not that I would ever turn you away, because we're bros, but man, I am so glad."

"So... um... so you don't think it's weird?"

Stiles laughed out loud. That was probably the least weird thing he had heard or seen all week. He would have laughed some more, but Scott suddenly looked serious and indicated over Stiles shoulder towards the other room. He turned and discovered they were no longer alone.

Derek was hovering in the doorway looking distressed, which was not a good look on Derek.

"What?" Stiles asked.

Derek waved a finger towards his ear and Stiles remembered no one outside could hear him. He let the magic go.

"Are you okay?" he asked as Derek tipped his head to one side in a very puppy-like gesture.

"Please don't do that," Derek said and Derek saying 'please' really caught his attention.

"I was just trying to have a private conversation with Scott," Stiles said, not really understanding.

The way Derek looked pained and somewhat embarrassed at the same time was all sorts of strange.

"And I wasn't listening to that," Derek said.

"Then what were you listening to?" Stiles asked, because it was obvious Derek wasn't going to just tell him.

Derek looked at Scott and then back at Stiles and then sighed in a resigned manner.

"Your heartbeat," Derek confessed and Stiles felt his mouth drop open.

Again it probably should have been creepy, but Stiles had been around werewolves too long to be overly bothered by it. However, he was kind of confused.

"Scott, do you mind," he said, because this thing with Derek was getting stranger and it clearly wasn't just going to go away, "I think Derek and I need to have a private conversation now, but don't think you're off the hook."

Scott stepped towards the door and then hesitated.

"Um, so you're going to do that thing again?" Scott asked.

"What?" Stiles said and then he thought about it. "Oh not you too? How many others are listening to make sure I'm still breathing? Don't tell me you're going to freak out if you can't hear my heartbeat as well?"

The way Scott looked like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar was kind of adorable.

"It's instinctive," Scott protested. "You're pack and you were gone and then you were gone again."

Stiles had to give that point.

"Okay," he said, "and you can go back to listening after I've had this conversation with Derek, because we are having it in private. If you're going to freak out or anything come and hover in the doorway. Now shoo."

Scott didn't look particularly happy, but did go and Stiles put up the barrier again.

"Right," he said and focused his attention on Derek, "if I kissed you right now would you go all snarly and throw me across the room?"

The look of complete and total shock on Derek's face was worth the sudden doubt that tried to claim Stiles after his mouth ran away with him. All the touching from Scott had a brotherly vibe to it, but he was getting something totally different from Derek.

"Look, Big Guy," his mouth always had a mind of its own, "I get I might be reading this wrong because, y'know, not wolfy, but I'm picking up this connection and a lot of the time its going straight south. Tell me now if I have it all about face before I make a complete idiot out of myself."

For a few seconds Derek just looked at him from under his brows in that way he had.

"You're not reading it wrong," Derek replied eventually.

Stiles let out a relieved breath.

"Then can I?" he asked hopefully.

When Derek didn't instantly say yes he was disappointed.

"Stiles," Derek said, "you're sixteen."

"Seventeen in two weeks," he countered.

"Still not eighteen," Derek replied in a very pointed way.

"Yeah, have you not noticed how all my friends are already having sex?" he asked, giving Derek his best 'puleeez' face.

"With other teenagers," Derek pointed out, "Stiles, I haven't been a teenager in a while, it's not right."

"It's not like you're ancient."

Derek gave him a look.

"Okay," he admitted, "I get the age thing could be seen as a problem, but there are mitigating factors, so many mitigating factors, not the least of which is you're incredibly hot."

That hadn't been what he meant to say, but at least Derek looked slightly amused and less 'any second I will walk out and never speak of this again'. He reached out his hand hesitantly and touched Derek's and almost instantly he felt more relaxed.

"That," he said, "see that; you do that just by being there and letting me touch you. All these crazy things are going on with me and yet all I have to do is that and you ground me, and yes, Scott does that too, and Lydia, but it's not the same. There's this connection, it's kind of there with everyone supernatural who was in the cellar, but there are layers and you and me, we have way more layers than me and Isaac and the same, but different as me and Scott."

He really didn't think he was explaining it very well, but Derek wasn't pulling his hand away. In fact Derek had gone back to that serious, thinking expression where Stiles was the focus.

"You feel it to?" Derek finally asked.

"Yes," he replied and smiled hopefully.

"It could be ..."

"It could be lots of things, Derek," he said, stopping Derek before the alpha could get going, "but I know it's real. I don't know what it means; if it's some mystical bond or just a magical hangover. All I am sure about is I am attracted to you like you would not believe, you make me feel safe and grounded and so many other things that are really important to me right now, and I would really like to kiss you. Everything else we can figure out later."

Derek still looked really unsure.

"You never know, if we kiss we might hate it," Stiles suggested and Derek rolled his eyes.

"If your dad shoots me or Scott tries to rip my throat out it's your fault," Derek said and Stiles gave a little whoop and pounced.

If was so not graceful, but he wasn't taking any chances with Derek changing his mind again before he at least got a chance to try. Luckily Derek caught him before he fell over his own feet and prevented the kiss turning into a headbutt. In fact, Derek just picked him up and sat him onwhat passed as a counter, crowded in towards him between his legs and then set about kissing him like he had never been kissed before.

The whole beard cross stubble was different, but he liked the scratchiness and the way Derek grabbed him and kind of claimed him in a very possessive manner had him shaking in a way that had nothing to do with anxiety or fear. His kissed back with everything he had and there was nipping and tongues and moaning and Stiles' dick went from vaguely noticing the situation to rock hard in record time.

There was definitely no 'hating it' going on at all.

"Um guys," interrupted them and Stiles dragged himself away from where he had moved on to Derek's neck to find Scott standing in the doorway looking awkward.

Scott gave him an apologetic smile.

"I thought you might want to know Stiles barrier dropped about five minutes ago," Scott said and then turned and walked away.

"Oh crap," Stiles said as he realised exactly how well over half of everyone outside could hear and the fact that he doubted the humans had needed much help either.

The resultant cat calls were probably well deserved and he buried his head in Derek's shoulder and wondered how long it took to die of embarrassment.

"They would have figured it out anyway," Derek said and actually laughed; it seemed he really didn't care their first makeout session had been a performance.

"Hate you," he mumbled into Derek's shoulder.

"No you don't," Derek replied and Stiles had to nod, because yeah, that was right.

"Okay," he said, sitting back and putting the barrier he had clearly forgotten while Derek was blowing his mind into place, "are we doing this?"

He could live with the jokes he was sure were going to come their way the moment they stepped out of the door if Derek would just say yes. Derek looked thoughtful again, but then nodded.

"But there will be no sex until you're eighteen," Derek said and Stiles actually snorted with laughter.

"Yeah, okay," he said, sobering when he realised Derek was serious, "as long as there is making out I can cope."

He was pretty sure Derek's ultimatum wouldn't last anyway, after all, everyone had needs. He'd just have to convince Derek gently. He let the barrier drop again.

"Let's go face the peanut gallery then," he said and hopped off the counter as Derek gave him room.

If his hair looked anything like Derek's they were so in for some ribbing, but he didn't say so because he kind of liked the kissed to hell and back look on the alpha, especially knowing he had put it there.

There were lots of jokes aimed at them in the other room, but when Stiles looked over at Deaton he got more of the feeling that the Emissary was ticking of something on a mental list.

He had no doubt Deaton knew more than was being said, although probably not directly to do with his situation, but he also knew there would be no forcing anything out of the other man. He hoped Deaton could help him learn what had happened to him, but that would take time and for the moment he turned away and concentrated on Derek. Things had changed and were changing so much and he needed to get those straight in his head and his heart.

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. I'm over here on tumblr is you hang out there and want to see fic announcements and the occasional piece of art (and I often get overexcited with the reblog button :)): [berenwrites](http://berenwrites.tumblr.com/)


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